Picture Debate an Izaya and Namie Fanfiction
by Kagetora no Tsume
Summary: An argument is provoked between Namie and Izaya when he sees a picture of her brother.


Hi again! For all of you who complain that I don't ever post anything...

Well, you still get to complain.

But not as often!

I ask forgiveness ahead of time, because this was written around 2 in the morning, and the quality is probably a bit off...

Disclaimer: I don't own Durarara, though I wish I did! That would be awesome...

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"Hey!" Namie yelped in surprise as Izaya bumped into her.

The picture she held clattered to the floor. Before Namie could pick it up, though, Izaya had snatched it.

Examining it for a second, Izaya handed it back to her with a bored disinterest.

"Your brother. As I expected. That's really a nasty fascination you have there, you know."

Namie snatched the photo back and hugged it against her chest.

"Who are YOU to lecture on what is and isn't proper?"

Izaya playfully side-stepped behind her, and as Namie turned to face him, she felt the picture being pulled from her hands.

"H-hey!" she yelped, making a snatch for it.

Izaya was taller, though, (curse him) and held it above his head, out of her reach.

"I wonder," Izaya began, and Namie felt herself getting annoyed at the sheer knowledge of what he was about to say, "if it was specifically Seiji?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked darkly, taking a step back and crossing her arms. She would have to wait until he lowered his guard.

"What I'm saying is that, had he not been your brother, would you have still fallen for him? Or conversely, if any other person had been born a brother to you, would you have loved them? It comes down to either your fascination with his person or with his status. The former of this would be more forgivable, because he seems to be a rather nice boy, despite a few rather disturbing quirks."

Namie made another sharp grab for the photo, but Izaya held it out of reach, distancing her with his other arm.

"If the latter is the reason," he continued, "then one has to wonder what your reaction to a _sister_ would have been..."

He grinned that evil grin of his, the one she hated most, and Namie was provoked into making another grab for the photo.

"I know perfectly well what you think of my love for Seiji! I don't need you analyzing it on a daily basis, and I would suggest you stop, or I'll-...!" she snarled, standing on her tiptoes in an attempt to reach the picture.

"Or what?" Izaya laughed, taking a step back and holding the photo out to her, his other hand reaching into the pocket of his coat for his switchblade.

Namie froze.

He was right, of course. There was nothing she could do to him, nothing she could threaten him with to make him listen. This was Izaya. He had no weakness, and although she would never admit it, they both knew that she was a little bit scared of him.

That's why she had never dared quit, despite the unreasonable demands that he sometimes made of her.

He smiled again, and Namie almost found herself tempted to grab the picture.

"Though of course," he continued, "when I finally decide to kick you out, and the police catch you, I wonder if you'll be charged with sexually harassing a minor on top of everything else..." This did it, and Namie leaped forward sharply, snatching the photo and turning to run. Izaya moved just as quick though, pinning her against his chest with his blade pressed to her throat. Namie managed to choke back a quiet whimper.

Izaya's hair brushed her cheek as he leaned to whisper in her ear.

"You keep telling me not to put you on the same level as a stalker, but I wonder..."

He leaned back, placing his hands on her shoulders and gave her a slight shove.

Namie found herself falling, and only realized a few seconds later that Izaya had tripped her.

She landed on the sofa, and scrambled to her feet again quickly.

Looking around for Izaya, she found him half way up the stairs.

"I wonder if you have pictures of him in your room, like hanging in your closet or under your pillow?" he called down to her, "That would be rather obvious evidence of you being a stalker, wouldn't you say?"

"Izaya!"

"Let's find out, Namie~Chan!" He grinned darkly.

Namie felt herself running.

She had to stop him. Even if she didn't have pictures of Seiji like he said, she had to stop him.

Izaya's grin widened as she ran towards him, and he ran up the stairs, calling out to her.

"Hurry up, Namie! Wouldn't want me seeing anything that you might regret, now would you?"

He vanished into her bedroom as she reached the top of the stairs.

Quickly running down the hall, she almost missed the doorway as her socks slipped on the tile.

The first thing Namie saw was her open closet door.

"Izaya...!" she snarled, stalking over.

To her surprise, though, he wasn't in her closet.

She stood confused for a second, but then something grabbed her from behind.

She gasped in surprise as she found Izaya's arms wrapped around her middle, preventing escape.

"Surprisingly, Namie, I didn't find anything. No pictures, no letters, no DNA samples..."

Namie pulled against him, testing his grip, but Izaya was strong. She wouldn't be able to get away from him.

"But the question remains, my dear Namie..." he continued softly, taking her face in his hand and turning her head so that their eyes met "Why would you run all the way up here after me if you had nothing to hide?"

She didn't answer him, meekly struggling against his grip.

Izaya let her go, herding her out into the hallway.

"The answer to that is quite simple really..."

Namie knew what was coming; what he was about to accuse her of.

"You're a coward." he said quietly. "You're afraid of me, and of yourself."

That did it.

Namie went to punch him, her rational thoughts giving way to her emotions as Izaya's taunts finally wore through the protective numbness that she usually surrounded herself with.

Izaya easily dodged, catching her wrist and spinning her around behind him, into her room.

Before she could react, the door had closed sharply behind her. She turned and reached for the door handle even as she heard Izaya lock it.

She tried the handle anyway, but with no luck.

Namie felt her eyes brimming.

He hadn't even done anything, and she was crying.

"I hate you!" She cried at the locked door, annoyed at herself almost as much as she was at him.

"Do you hear me? I hate you Izaya Orihara!"

There was only silence from the other side of the wall.

He'd left.

Namie turned her back to the door, leaning against it for support as she sank to her knees.

She wanted nothing more right now than to hit something, but couldn't seem to find the energy or the will to actually carry out the action.

Her hands slipped from the door to the carpet, offering better support for her body. That argument had left her drained.

Refusing to let herself sit in self pity for more than a few seconds, she roughly wiped a fist across her cheeks.

She wasn't going to let Izaya tease her like this.

"I hate him..." she whispered, scrunching her eyes closed as if to lock out her emotions.

"You hate me...?"

She looked up sharply.

That had sounded like...but it couldn't be.

He'd left. She had lost his interest as quickly as any of his other 'players'.

Something brushed Namie's fingers and she jumped slightly in surprise, turning to look.

A hand showed from under the door, the fingertips interwoven with hers.

Izaya.

"That's a shame, Namie-Chan..." his voice came softly through the wood, "Because I don't hate you. Not at all." His voice was calm, with the underlying hint of some emotion, but she couldn't tell what it was. Sarcasm? Sadism?

She could only stare at his fingertips, unable to believe that he would leave it at that. This was Izaya. She was sure that he was about to follow it up with some smart-alec comment like 'you're my most interesting player' or 'your predictability amuses me'.

But it never came.

Namie waited for it, but Izaya didn't speak. He was playing mind games with her again.

She didn't speak either. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of falling into another one of his cleverly-worded traps.

It was almost 5 minutes later that the phone rang.

"You'd better get that." Namie spat in disgust, finally pulling her hand away from his, "It's probably one of your precious 'human experiments' again."

The hand vanished and she could hear him getting to his feet.

A second later, the ringing stopped.

She leaned her head back against the door, letting her eyes close.

Well, that dealt with the problem for now. But would he remember their conversation tomorrow?

Namie cringed. She didn't want to deal with the topic again, but she was sure that he would remember. Perhaps if she feigned sickness...? No, he'd only read into that as her internal cowardice taking over or something stupid, only giving him one more thing ridicule her about.

She could possibly...

Namie's thoughts were sharply interrupted with the door opening out from behind her, and she fell flat across the floor.

Something semi-cushioned her fall, saving her head from the tile floor, and she looked up to find that it was Izaya who caught her.

"Sorry." he muttered, helping her sit up, "I didn't know you were leaning against the door." Namie leaned away from him.

"You seem to be able to predict everything else, why not that?"

Izaya shrugged, the corner of his mouth pulling up into that grin he got when he was truly amused with something.

"So far, menial actions are beyond my range of prediction."

Namie could have replied for him. She knew that he would say that.

"Who was calling?" she asked, not really interested.

"I don't know. I cut off the call."

Namie looked up, genuinely confused.

"Why'd you do that?"

"It was interrupting some more urgent business. You seemed like you were rather upset."

Namie bit back a sarcastic reply.

Her being upset was solely his fault, and he very well knew it!

Izaya got to his feet, ignoring the death glare that she shot him, and stepped into her room.

"Mind if I come in?"

"Like I'd really have a choice?"

He chuckled, but the sound of it was off, somehow.

Namie got to her feet, walking over to where Izaya was glaring rather fiercely at the various pictures on her dresser.

"These are horribly uneven..."

"Then fix them. I don't care." she replied, walking around him.

With a sigh, she sat down hard on her bed, watching Izaya go OCD over her dresser.

After a few seconds he turned, noticing the picture of her brother that had started their argument and picking it up.

Namie's eyes instantly widened, but Izaya merely placed it on her dresser with the rest of the pictures she had.

"Only one of your brother?" he asked quietly, "I could have sworn you had more..."

Namie didn't reply. He didn't need to know about what pictures she did or didn't have.

She lay back, staring at the ceiling as she listened to Izaya arranging the pictures.

Eventually, he came and sat beside her.

"So...what started this fascination with your brother?" he asked.

"Don't you EVEN start this again...!" she snarled, rolling over on her side to face him.

"Well there had to be _some_ reason that you would ignore the cultural bias against incest and go for him..."

"Augh! Would you GO AWAY already?" she cried, rolling over on her stomach and catching her pillow in a death grip.

Izaya leaned back on one elbow, grinning again.

"It's not natural, you know."

She muttered something about making Izaya suffer.

"You aren't ready to have any other man, because you're still trying to convince yourself that you love Seiji."

Izaya took the picture off her dresser and held it before her.

"You still think that you're in love with him."

Namie closed her eyes, burying her face in her pillow, and wishing Izaya would leave her alone.

But it wasn't his sarcastic, bitter comments that hurt her.

She had been finding lately that she was embarrassed to admit that she had been in love with her brother, and that was what really hurt.

Knowing that she had promised herself to never falter in her love for Seiji, yet every time it was mentioned, she wished that she had never loved him.

Knowing that it would have made her life so much easier if she had never loved him...

And now Izaya stood directly before her, challenging her to leave it, and leave it for good.

"Well?" his voice sounded slightly muffled through her pillow.

She felt a shiver run through her entire body as his hand gently traced up her spine to play with a strand of her hair.

Namie sat up sharply as she felt Izaya's other hand rest across her lower back.

Izaya sat on the edge of her bed, fixing her with a look that was devoid of all emotion except a slight curiosity.

"Here." he said after a second, pointing a finger at his face "you can hit me if you want."

Namie watched him for a second, not really understanding, but as Izaya's eyes stared icily back into hers, she realized that he was serious.

She hesitated another second, then, closing her eyes, punched Izaya in the face.

Namie was so used to making wild swings at Izaya that when she felt her fist actually hit something, her eyes snapped open in surprise.

Thinking for a second that he had caught her hand, she looked up.

Izaya's head was turned to the side, and he was rubbing his cheek.

"Ow...I'm glad I usually dodge that..." he was muttering softly.

Namie blinked in surprise, too shocked to react farther.

He...had actually let her hit him?

Izaya turned back, fixing her with a look that instantly replaced the shock with nervousness.

"Now, my turn." he said quietly, edging toward her, "To make us even."

Namie's eyes widened sharply, and she inched backwards a bit.

"I-Izaya...!" she choked out as his arm encircled her waist.

"What's wrong?" He asked softly, "I promise I won't tell Seiji..."

"No! That has nothing to do with...!"

Namie cut herself off sharply and instantly regretted speaking.

Izaya looked up at her in surprise for a second, then the grin returned.

"So, you aren't as enthralled as you thought, are you?"

Namie felt her cheeks burn, and let her gaze drop, wishing he couldn't see her.

She glanced for a second at the picture of her brother that she had been holding earlier. It now sat on her dresser, and Seiji was looking back at them with dull, uncaring eyes.

Izaya glanced at the picture as well.

"That _is_ a rather nasty fascination." he whispered, one hand pulling her up against his chest as the other turned the picture face-down on the dresser. "You should give it up for a more favorable one."

Her cheeks were red, and she avoided meeting his eyes.

Izaya leaned close slowly, but as soon as she felt his lips brush her cheek, Namie pulled away.

"W-why did you hire me then?" she managed to ask, desperate to change the subject.

Izaya shrugged and smiled, brushing a loose strand of her long, dark hair out of her face.

"Even researchers get lonely."

And before she could attempt another distraction, Izaya kissed her.

* * *

It sucks, I know, but remember; it was written around 2:00 in the morning...all in one go, too!

And at least I updated!

Geez...this is probably the shortest story I've ever written.

5 Pages.

Well, 5 and a fourth. But who's counting? (Can't be bothered with exact fractions...it's summer...)

Anyway...Please review! ^^ I like getting reviews.

Well, I started this at 1:30...and I'm finishing at 3:45. Time for bed...

Bye!


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